


Can I be forgiven for all it took to get here?

by gaytriangle



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Afterlife, Angst, Canon Compliant, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt / Comfort, M/M, Season 7 compliant, for now, i think, listen I think it’s fairly obvious what this fic is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-13
Updated: 2019-04-13
Packaged: 2020-01-12 17:21:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18451133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaytriangle/pseuds/gaytriangle
Summary: The White Walkers are here, and Theon wants to fight for the King in the North.No matter the cost.





	Can I be forgiven for all it took to get here?

Theons memory didn’t work quite right anymore. He’d wake up in the morning with no idea about what had happened the night before, or suddenly stop for minutes at a time without realising any time had passed at all. Sansa said he shouldn’t fight, because of it. Jon said he should stay home, with the cripples and the babes. Yara said he was a cripple, now, and she didn’t begrudge it. 

But somewhere in Theons mind, behind the aches and the whispers of _reek, reek, rhymes with weak_ , he remembered who he was. He was Ironborn, and what is dead may never die. So, using skills he didn’t remember developing, he slipped out of winterfell with a longbow, arrows, and some pitch. Bran Stark - or what remained of him, considering that he was as broken as Theon himself - had agreed to distract the sentry for him. Theon didn’t ask why. Something about his blank white eyes scared a primal part of Theon, something he had never learned to name. 

That same part would much rather be braiding Brans hair and performing cartwheels for him than standing here. The Wall had fallen, months ago, but Theon hadn’t really believed it until now. The glittering icy rubble cast sickening shadows across the landscape, even with the weakest winter sun Theon had ever seen. The Army of the Dead moved with one mind, slashing through their defences like paper. Theon began to shake, but shakily picked up an arrow and took aim, lighting it with some difficulty. A Walker went down, and a handful of the wights around him. 

Light. Aim. Loose. Theon paid no mind to the cold, or the ache in his injured hand, or the faces he recognised that had been resurrected for the other side. He was helping the King In The North, and that was the only thing he had wanted to do for as far back as he could painlessly remember. He carved off little chunks of the army, not even noticing a Walker turn to him and raise his spear. 

All of a moment, he couldn’t breathe. It was quite odd. Someone must have shoved him over in the Godswood again, because he had weirwood leaves all over his chest. He sank to his knees, staring at the bloody pattern spreading over his torso, and then he did nothing at all. 

It was a strange sensation to open his eyes, after that. The sun was blazing, as warm as a Dornish summer. He was lying beside a cheerful babbling stream. Someone was sitting beside him, braiding the flowers all around him into a woven crown. He dragged himself up, running his hands through his hair, and then froze. He had ten fingers. He looked to the woman beside him, and suddenly recognised her, but it couldn’t be...

“Hello, son,” said Alannys Harlaw. “We’ve been waiting for you for quite some time.”

Theon felt tears welling at the side of his face, but drew his lips up into a watery grin none the less. “Is this it, then? Doesn’t look like the Drowned Gods hall.”

Alannys shrugged, pulling them both up. “Maybe the river brought you here instead. It let me come here, once your friend died. It’s been nice, having company to watch over you.” 

Theon blinked, slowly. His mind was putting itself back together, and he could dare to hope. “Which friend, mother?”

Alannys looked off behind him, and gave a cheery wave to someone he couldn’t yet see. “Why, him, of course!” 

Theon felt rooted into the grass, completely unable to move. He felt a tight hug from behind as a red head of curls rested on his shoulder. “I’ve missed you,” murmured Robb Stark. 

Theon let a shaky smile spread across his face. As he was dragged over to meet Talisa and little Lyarra, he felt the first dawnings of peace in what felt like forever. 

Can I be forgiven, he asked himself, for all it took to get here? I want to be. I can. I believe it.

**Author's Note:**

> ...apparently this is how I deal with my own sadness now


End file.
